


The Wandmaker

by nativemossy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Shadow-Walkers, Slow Burn, Were-Creatures, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nativemossy/pseuds/nativemossy
Summary: Akaashi swore that he only ever intended to help with just that one favor, really.(Or, the one time Akaashi bit off a little more than he could chew.)(on hiatus)





	1. A Series of Unforeseen Events

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to si, who's taking time to beta this monster for me

          “Keiji, what are you doing over there?” He looked up as he heard his mother’s mellow voice carry over the courtyard.

“I… don’t know.” He replied, looking down at the mess of twigs and leaves on his lap. In the center of it all is a halfway graceful twist of all the best switches he had pulled from the birch tree growing stoutly on the green. He felt the itching in his fingers gradually subside as he fidgeted with his creation, lining up loose ends and pulling them tighter. “I just…”

She looked down at him as he trailed off, searching for words that would make the strange urge that had overcome him sound a bit more rational. With a small sigh, she crouched down, inspecting the tangle of twigs closely. “You just…?” She inquired, her face blank. Her eyes were smiling, however, as if she knew something that Keiji did not.

“I had to.” He stated simply, not wanting to draw the conversation out any further. He felt ridiculous, even worse so when he looked at the mess that had become his robes. He was genuinely confused as to why she wasn’t furious at the mess. In fact, she seemed merely bemused, and somewhat pleased. He tilted his head, letting his eyes ask questions he couldn’t quite put to words.

She chuckled, then took the birch tangle from his lap. “Keiji, has anyone explained to you how a wand is made?”

He frowned, then shook his head. He looked at the sticks in her hands, then up into her face. There was no way that what he had created was a wand. It was too messy, too juvenile. The wands he had seen were elegant, beautiful weavings of different woods and plants, each different and beautiful in its own way. Some were tipped in precious gems, others were woven with the hairs of unicorns or the feathers of griffins. He inspected the tangle further, beginning to see an emergence of a pattern, an elegant slope and wave of the wood. He then felt the itch in his fingers again, just slightly. He could almost see where he had gone a bit astray, where he could have tightened it further, a different path he could have made a twig take. His hands twitched towards his mother, as if to take it back, before he remembered himself and folded them in his lap, looking back into her face once more. She wore a kind smile, her eyes warm as she looked at him with poorly veiled pride.

“Wandmaking fae come about very rarely Keiji, and for good reason. They have immense power, the ability to tap into the infinite power of the flow of the universe, to take that flow and follow it, command it. What you just did,” She gestured to the tangle of birch in her lap, “this creation, is the result of that flow.” He looked down at his hands, then the birch, then to his mother once more, “Someday, you will feel that it’s complete, and the fate of this creation will be out of your hands. Every wand you make will be destined for somebody. It could be as soon as you finish it, or it could be several centuries after you are gone.” She looked back at him, her excitement for her son shining through with the pride, making Keiji feel warm and happy.

“But Mama?” He asked, continuing when he saw her head tilt in acknowledgement, “What about my wand?” He felt a bit panicked, a fae without a wand was by no means helpless, but even at his age he knew that with a wand came power, status. What use was he if he could make wands, but was defenseless?

She chortled at the question, startling him for a second. “Keiji, I am no expert, but I am sure that when the time comes, you will feel the call of your own wand.” She looked up for a second, handing him the misshapen wand and standing up. “When you do you shouldn’t ignore it. Never ignore the sound of fate knocking at your door, Keiji.”

* * *

          Keiji cracked open his eyes, groaning when the light hit. He had been feeling it for days now, the itching in his fingers, now long familiar to him. He longed to stay in bed for longer, soak up the tranquility and silence, but he felt that he could ignore the pull no longer, and dragged himself upright. He walked to the dresser, dressing himself in a light tunic and loose pants. Padding out of his room, he glanced in the mirror, watching his tired eyes in the glass as he passed. He nodded hello to Kenma on his way into the workshop, observing the books and papers strewn about the table around him. It seemed that he was not the only one who had restless sleep the night before.

          He opened the door to his workshop, feeling more than seeing the object of his thoughts that morning. It was a rather nice wand, one that he had been working on for quite some time. About a century ago, he was wandering the forest when he came upon an alder tree. Not entirely uncommon, but the itching in his fingers told him otherwise. He set to work, the brushes of an unseen Something against his aura telling him where best to brandish his knife. Many years later, several wisteria switches had joined the alder bark, transforming it from a crude braid of bark into an elaborate weave of wood, spanning a bit longer than his forearm. It was by no means special, but he couldn’t help but feel attached to it. By no choice of his, he kept returning to it, honing it and refining it as he learned more and more about the craft he was born into.

          He held doubts, of course. While his instincts told him that once it was finished, this wand was meant to be his, he couldn’t help but be skeptical. He hadn’t been around for long, just a millennium or so, not even half the time that the old masters of which he had spoken with had been alive before they began the crafting of their own wand. However, he knew how he felt and he knew how this wand felt. It felt like it was  _ his _ . As he spent hours grinding each switch down, oiling and tempering and singing to them in the ancient language of his people, he felt them bend to him, molding to the shape of his palm, flexing and moving as he felt was right. While he was sure that it would no doubt be the jewel of his creations, as all personal wands were, he dreaded the long years that it would take to see it completed.

With the addition of one of Kenma’s hairs, willingly given one afternoon after decades of companionship, he had thought that with the fixture of Kenma in his life (and in this wand) that it would finally settle, satisfied with its form and finally leaving him in peace. He found that this would not be the case. While it gave him a modicum of restfulness for a while, he found that it did not settle the wand, and after a few years seemed to serve as a way to only rile it up further. He did not regret asking for the hair that afternoon, and on one particularly restless day found himself asking for a few more, the bicolored strands joining their golden brother within the tangle of wood.

          Yes, other wands had come and gone, their owners drawn by the magic of the house in which Keiji lived, drawn in by the latent pull of their wand. He had happily given them away, glad to simply accumulate favors in exchange for his services. Once he had finished a wand, technically speaking the connection was severed. However, he still felt as though he could sense the contentment of the wand, or, more rather, the contentment of the energy behind it.

          He sighed once more, glancing crossly at the tangle of wisteria and alder as he turned to a new project, hoping to occupy his mind for a little while. It worked for a moment, an orange and holly wand taking form with every stroke of his hand. He found himself humming a tune softly, feeling the wood react minutely to his silent prodding at its aura. He felt it give a feeble wiggle, then give up, stubbornly shutting him out.

          He huffed out a laugh, then stepped back from the table. Holly was always over-sensitive, he kept forgetting. Project abandoned for now, he glanced out of the open window, seeing that the sun was a bit brighter through the trees, turning the forest floor a lively green. He watched the shadows dance for a moment, then turned back to the workshop, nearly grimacing at the perpetual mess that plagued it.

          While it didn’t necessarily look bad, per se, it most certainly lacked the neat order he had given everything else in his life. The wide counters spanned the entirety of the room, filled with various tools, oils, and woods, made of various lengths and styles of cut. The ceilings were hung with herbs and grasses, and planters full of flowers in bloom lined the windows. He cast another furtive glance at the wisteria wand, and turned on his heel, walking out of the workroom and into the hallway. He stepped into the main room once again, muttering an apology when Kenma looked up at his footsteps.

          He sat at the table, waving his hand listlessly as he lowered himself to the floor. When he looked to the table, a small pot and two cups sat ready in front of him, just as he had intended. He poured the tea into each cup, sliding one across the table to his companion, taking a quiet sip when it had cooled. He picked up a paper that was upon the table, inspecting the neat scrawl detailing some potion. He felt the careful scrutiny of the other, and chose to ignore it, sipping his tea and pretending like he didn’t notice. Kenma was hardly pleased.

          “Akaashi.” He said finally, looking someplace off to the left of Keiji’s eyes, likely his ear or a particularly unruly curl. Very rarely did he meet the eyes of another person, even rarer so when he was forced to dictate the direction of a conversation. Keiji knew that such contact with others made him uncomfortable, and had long since stopped taking it personally.

          Keiji nodded, a silent sign for him to continue. Kenma seemed relieved at his willingness to allow him to talk until he had finished, and continued. “That... wand, it’s taking longer than what they usually do, isn’t it?”

          Keiji frowned, somewhat unhappy at being so subtly cornered. There were certain things that went unsaid between the two of them, things that were spoken of sparingly and went mostly inferred instead of stated. For Keiji, it was the mention of his wand that put him at unease, made him edgy and nervous. They had never spoken outright of it, and he supposed that a conversation of this nature had been a long time coming.

          As for Kenma, they had spoken of his reason for leaving human society as a whole only once, quite vaguely, and it was a conversation that Keiji had no intent of repeating. As he cast his mind back to the uncomfortable chat, he conceded that he owed Kenma transparency in this, and faced him fully.

          “It is.” He responded, cupping his hands around the mug. “I find myself rather attached to it, despite the trouble it’s been giving me for some time now.”

          Kenma smiled, just barely a quirk of his lips, but Keiji saw it. Despite the bitter, confused,  _ something _ he felt about admitting the truth of the wand’s identity, he was glad it was well received. He took a sip of his tea, waiting for the response that he could see on Kenma’s face.

          Before he could verbalize it, however, there was a rap at the door.

          Keiji looked up, startled at the noise. He frowned, then stood up. He took his time, brushing off his clothes and making a fruitless attempt to tame his curls, if only for the huff of laughter he was afforded by his companion. Once satisfied, he strode towards the door of his home, only to jump back when it burst open, a large body launching through the doorway.

Keiji saw Kenma jerk upright out of the corner of his eye, his mind already halfway down the hallway to where he could get to a weapon of some sort, surely. Before Kenma could act on his hastily made plans, another person intruded into his house, this time a bit slowly. The man had thick, dark, unruly hair. It looked like he had just rolled out of bed with it, and it was only made worse by the hand he had running through it as he sheepishly apologized.

“Ah, real sorry about Bo, he really doesn’t know his own strength sometimes.” The man chortled, lightly kicking the man still laid on the floor. He had a rather strange hairstyle as well, spiked as high as it could go and dual colored, and seemed generally shocked about the whole situation. His wide eyes scanned the interior of the house, and his mouth was parted in awe. Akaashi was fairly sure he heard a vague _what the fuck_ , but he couldn’t be sure.

Akaashi resisted the urge to laugh, and instead turned to the second man, craning his neck slightly to look him in the eye. He raised a single eyebrow, then sighed when he realized that answers would be unforthcoming without any questions.

“What are you here for? I don’t suppose either of you need a wand?” Akaashi sighed, stepping back a bit to allow them further into his house. “If you do I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” he indicated towards the workroom with little fanfare, “I can tell you now that any wands I have as of now don’t belong to you.”

Bedhead looked confused, his brow furrowing and one of his hands twitching slightly. His gaze slid from Akaashi to Kenma, then across the room as he thought of his answer. “We’re not here for a… wand?” His eyes slid back to Akaashi, the statement coming out more like a question. “We heard that a Fae lived in these woods, that we might be able to get some help?” He leaned back a bit, almost as if he was expecting a blowback from his question.

Akaashi squinted at him for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “It really depends on the kind of help you require,” he glanced down to the man on the floor, feeling the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do, but I do expect payment.”

“Of course.” Amber eyes twinkled at him from his doorway, and instantly he felt irritated.

* * *

 

Bokuto Koutarou and Kuroo Tetsurou were the names of his two visitors, a Shifter and Shadow-walker respectively, and it was already evident that they were truly one of a kind. Once they had finally scooped Bokuto from his foyer, they had all sat at the table, each pair at opposing ends. Keiji felt more than saw Kenma’s discomfort, with the fissures it cleaved in the air around them, leaving the air thick with tension. He felt stiffness in his own shoulders as well, likely from combatting the itching in his fingertips, the invisible urge to _create_. He had a suspicion as to why it had come back so strongly at this moment, but Keiji was nothing if not resilient, and did his best to ignore it. He poured his guests each a cup of tea, returning his hands to his lap once he was finished.

“So, what exactly is the problem?” He inquired, leaning back a bit to stretch his stiff spine. To his surprise, it was Bokuto who spoke up first, looking down at the table and picking at the skin around a nail.

“Ah, well, ya see, it’s a bit complicated…” He trailed off, glancing up at Akaashi as if he would run away or interrupt him. Keiji did neither, and simply raised an eyebrow, waiting. “It’s uh…” he paused again, seemingly gathering the words he would need. “So, I’m a Shifter, and I’m having trouble with control an’ all that…” he paused, as if to give Keiji time to respond, react, something. He did not, so Bokuto continued, “I didn’t use to, it wasn’t until a couple weeks ago that it started happenin’, like everything just kinda… freaks out, ya know?”

Akaashi took a sip of his tea, thinking it over. It had been a long while since he had encountered a Shifter, even longer since he had had an actual conversation with one. He tried to remember what he knew, piecing together something of an answer while Bokuto waited eagerly. “Well,” he began, sounding vaguely uncertain, unsure of his conclusion. “this sounds like a problem with your Family Tree.” He received nothing but a questioning look from Kuroo, and an extremely puzzled look from Bokuto. “Do you… know what a Family Tree is?” He inquired, feeling his concern grow by the minute.

Bokuto looked indignant, puffing his chest out with a grin. “Of course I kno- “

“You have no idea.” Akaashi interrupted, getting to his feet slowly. He heard a squawk of offense, a guffaw of laughter, and what suspiciously sounded like a slap as he strode to the bookshelf, grabbing the book he wanted before sitting back down on the floor. He flipped it open, fingers gliding through the pages until he came upon the one he was searching for. He slid it across the table, and watched as his two guests bent over the book, crowding together to read the small script. “Family Trees, they’re the source of any and all form shifting abilities permitted to lineage based Shifters. Each tree usually has a Sponsor, traditionally a trusted Fae, but in the past few millennia it has namely switched to anybody capable of bonding adequately with the essence of the Tree.” Akaashi shifted in his seat, resting his forearms on the table as Kuroo let out a low whistle. Kenma seemed decidedly unimpressed.

“So, these tree things, all shifters have one?” Kuroo inquired, looking up and leaning forward, genuine curiosity shining in his eyes.

“All families have one, other shapeshifters such as Skinwalkers and Lycans do not, they are something different entirely.” Keiji stated, looking to Bokuto once again. “I am unsure why your Tree would react like this, but from what you have described, it sounds like you’re losing connection to it, in a rather slow and drawn out way.”

There was silence for a minute, then Bokuto looked up, his brows furrowed together. “So, let’s say that I lose this uh… connection. What’ll happen?”

Akaashi thought to himself for a moment, his finger drawing small, thoughtless patterns on his mug. “Well, it’s likely you’ll lose the ability to shift entirely. Whichever nature within you that is strongest,” His hand made an absent gesture back and forth, as if indicating two figures upon the table. “man or beast, will take over completely. As I understand it, your kind works as a balance between the two. In this case, you would lose one or the other.” He paused for a moment, taking a steady breath in and letting it out slowly. “From what you say, it sounds to me that if you lose your connection to your Tree, you lose your humanity as well.”

A heavy silence hung over the room, tension once again settling all around them. A throat was cleared, and Keiji looked to Bokuto once more, seeing the proud man wilting, almost like a plant with no water. He didn’t know what to do, so he simply observed, watching how this change would play out. He didn’t have to wait long, after a few tense moments Bokuto lifted his head, his shoulders still stiff but looking grim with determination. Akaashi was almost impressed, even more so when he opened his mouth to speak.

“What do I need to do?” He asked simply, his voice steady but soft, not quite broken but certainly scared, frightened in the way that was persistent. There was no place to hide from this fear, Bokuto had no refuge from himself.

Akaashi sighed and flipped the book closed, sending it back to the shelf with a wave of his hand. “I don’t know anything more about what could be ailing your tree, but the Council might be able to help. They monitor the grotto in which the Family Trees grow, I believe.”

“Great! So, when are we leaving?!” Bokuto exclaimed, almost vibrating in place at having something to do, some handhold he could use to climb his way out of the prior mood. Akaashi opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

“We?” Demanded Kenma, his shoulders hunching inwards. He looked rather as though he wished he had never spoken, and all eyes were on him. Bokuto tilted his head, just a touch farther than what seemed natural. His eyes narrowed in thought at the question, almost if he was confused as to why it was being asked in the first place.

“Yeah, we!” Bokuto affirmed, still looking a bit puzzled. “’Kaashi here seems to know the way, and this Council sounds scary! But you guys are kinda scary too, in a nice way…” He trailed off, lost in thought for a moment. There was silence, save for Kuroo’s muffled snorts of laughter, then he continued, “So I thought that you might help. I dunno, maybe like… uh… intimidate the other guys into helping!”

Bokuto sounded triumphant, as if he had just argued a clever point in a debate and had now backed Akaashi and Kenma into a corner. Kuroo was full-out laughing at this point, his ugly bray of a laugh bouncing off the walls of the room. Kenma glanced up at Keiji, pleading for something, likely for him to ask that they leave, and everything return to how it was before the messy interlopers fell into their lives. It seemed he had no such luck, as Akaashi simply looked thoughtful.

“A feather.” He simply stated, looking Bokuto squarely in the eye. Bokuto made a startled _eh?_ Of a response, and Akaashi continued. “If I go through with this, I want a pinion feather in payment.” He seemed to think some more, drumming his fingers on the table. “No, I want several pinion feathers.” He added on, looking as if he was ready to bargain with the shifter.

Bokuto seemed to have no such qualms. “Sure!” He cheerily replied, “That sounds great to me!” He hummed happily, turning his gaze onto Kenma, who was looking rather like he’d prefer to be anywhere but there. “So, what do you want?”

Kenma didn’t look up, but his face scrunched up, looking disgusted and uncomfortable all at once. He leaned more fully into Akaashi’s side, almost as if he was making a claim, though why he would Keiji couldn’t fathom. There was a prolonged pause, Bokuto’s expectant gaze never faltering. Kenma eventually sighed, then dipped his head further, his hair swinging around to cover his face fully.

“Later...” he mumbled, looking off to the side. At Bokuto’s inquiring hum he sighed, then spoke again, more firmly this time. “I’ll decide my payment later.”

Bokuto seemed shocked for a moment, then relaxed back onto the cushion on which he knelt. “Oh, alright. That sounds good.” He responded, his smile returning to his face. Kuroo looked shocked, then whipped around to Bokuto, grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him closer.

          He hissed something under his breath, of which Akaashi could only pick out what sounded like  _ open debts _ and  _ suspicious, magical people _ . Keiji huffed out a nervous laugh, then raised a hand, drawing an end to the hushed conversation. “I assure you, whatever Kenma requests of you will not put you in any harm’s way.” He glanced at Kenma, hoping for something to back him up. He got a shrug in response.

Well, at least it was something.


	2. On The Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So when we get there,” Bokuto began, falling into step next to Keiji. “Are there any fancy fairy rules we’re gonna need to follow? Like bowing twelve times to say hi, or…” He paused, bringing his hand to his chin in thought “Maybe knocking like, five times on a doorway when you go in, or something.”

              Keiji sighed, then rubbed his forehead. He seemed to be doing that quite a bit recently. “I have a room down the hall that you two can share, if that’s agreeable.”

          Across the table, Bokuto looked relieved, the yawns he had been poorly hiding for about an hour finally catching up to him. Kuroo looked skeptical, but no less gracious. He squinted slightly at Keiji, as if in distrust. “Thanks.” He muttered, standing up. He grabbed Bokuto’s arm, hauling him up at a moment’s hesitation.

          Akaashi blinked, then stood as well, moving towards the hall. “Follow me,” He said, bare feet stepping lightly on the wooden floor. “It’s just this way.” The two guests followed him, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. Keiji lead them down the hall, eventually coming to a door and opening it. He stepped aside, waiting for the visitors to enter. Once inside, he moved to shut the door, his face politely blank. “Please, have a nice evening.”

          Shutting the door, he walked back into the main room, sighing as he sat across from Kenma once more. He waved his hand, a book flying off the shelf and into his waiting palm. He flipped it open and scanned a few passages, giving Kenma the chance to break the uneasy silence between them. When no conversation was forthcoming, he looked up to see Kenma’s eyes locked on his, searching his face. They locked eyes for a moment, then Keiji looked down, saving Kenma the discomfort of doing it himself. He read in silence for a few minutes more, tilting his head slightly when he realized he hadn’t absorbed a word he had been reading. He heard Kenma shift, and waited, eyes forcefully glued to his page.

          “Why?” A small voice mumbled, sounding resigned and fearful in a way that Akaashi loathed. This fear of others was a part of Kenma, as much as he wished it wasn’t, if only for the witch’s sake. Akaashi looked up, finally locking eyes for the first time that evening. He saw weariness, and dread etched into his face. He saw the dark circles under his eyes, the bitten and raw skin of his lips. Keiji allowed himself a small smile, a thin attempt to soothe his friend.

          Akaashi looked down, picking at the edge of the pages to avoid the now piercing gaze of his friend. “You know exactly why.” He stated simply, slumping forwards slightly. His request for feathers was more than a bit transparent, and Kenma knew that drawing attention to it would only frustrate Keiji. He knew this and yet he persisted. Kenma was more exasperating than he gave him credit for.

          “I understand needing feathers, Keiji.” Akaashi looked up again, startled at the use of his first name, “But Shifter feathers specifically? That’s a bit strange.” With this he shrugged, looking back into his lap as he struggled to understand why Kenma was so curious. Kenma looked as if he had more to say, but was unsure how to say it. Silence fell over the two, tension thick in the air. After a few moments of hesitation, Keiji stood up, moving towards the hall once more.

          He felt frustrated, confused, and even slightly angry. Some of the emotion was directed at Kenma, for being so perceptive, for backing him into a corner. Keiji didn’t know why. The majority, however, was directed at nothing at all. Fate maybe, the world, or even the power that drove him to create wands, whatever it was. He took a  deep breath, letting it go. With each step towards Kenma he let the emotions drain from him, leaving Keiji feeling nothing but exasperation.

          “Don’t stay up too late, ok?” He asked softly, resting his hand in soft locks. After a moment in silence, he removed his hand, returning it to his side. He swiftly retreated down the hall, not desiring a reply.

* * *

 

          “Kou, this is madness! There’s no way you can go into this so openly. You either need to get that witch to decide on a payment, or find another fae.” Kuroo was pacing furiously, worrying his nail between his teeth. The door had shut behind them a few moments ago, and as soon as the duo was left in silence Kuroo began to panic. Koutarou sighed, smiling slightly to himself. Yes, this was par for the course with Kuroo, it was best to just let him worry himself out, then pick up the pieces.

          “It’s not gonna be that bad Kuroo,” He began, crossing his legs on the pillowy bed beneath him. Seriously, it was like a cloud. “Really, I trust these guys, they seem fin-“

          Kuroo’s eyes flashed, and he leapt across the room, grabbing Koutarou by the front of his shirt. “If you defend them one more time, I swear to god,” He paused, taking a slow breath through his nose. Kou put his hands up in a placating gesture, looking placidly back into glowing gold eyes. It seemed that Kuroo was genuinely upset about this then.

          Anyone else in this situation would be a bit more than mildly amused, somewhat terrified was the usual response to an angry shadow-walker. However, Koutarou was unlike most people, and his relationship to Kuroo was unlike most as well. While painfully platonic (affirmed after an evening that the two vowed never to discuss again), they shared a bond that had lasted for many years, and had hopes that it would last many more. Needless to say, Koutarou was more than assured that Kuroo would never hurt him.

          “This is my last chance Tetsurou,” Bokuto began, heaving a sigh as Kuroo stepped back, releasing his shirt. “If I can’t fix this, well, you heard ‘em…” He trailed off, hearing the echoes of Akaashi’s voice. Losing his humanity, it sounded about right. Kuroo sighed, rubbing furiously at his mop of hair. He tried for a smile, then quickly abandoned it, settling for an uneasy grin instead. His mouth curled unsteadily at the corners, and his eyes remained worried.

          “Look, fine, I’ll keep the worry to myself.” Kuroo began after a pause, his shoulders slumping inwards in defeat. Koutarou smiled a little wider. “But honestly, human witches can be dangerous, and while I want to trust Akaashi’s word, they’re still partners. If they were gonna hurt you they would do it together. I don’t want that, you know it.”

          Koutarou grabbed Kuroo by the arm, gently hauling him up onto the bed. He heard Kuroo chuckle lightly, and the small candle burning next to the bed was blown out, plunging the room in darkness. The two men curled close on the small bed, both with thoughts of what was to come.

          Nobody slept well that night.

* * *

 

          The next morning was tense, to say the least. Kuroo looked like a cat that had been startled, on his toes and ready to bolt at any minute. Kenma seemed generally uncomfortable, following Akaashi around the house as he prepared to leave, sitting stiffly at the table when Akaashi began to look uncomfortable. Akaashi seemed to be braving out the tension, making a few dry comments before giving up entirely.

          The only one who seemed completely at ease was Bokuto. Whether from forced ignorance or just an unawareness of the present tension, Bokuto seemed no different than he would within his own house. He made attempts to draw the group into conversation, occasionally gaining a sparse response from Akaashi, perhaps a huff of laughter from Kuroo. Ultimately, however, the morning was begun in a mostly silent fashion.

          After roughly an hour of this, the travelers finally exited the cottage, newcomers gawking at the majesty of the forest. While they were distracted, Keiji turned around, biting a gash into his thumb. He drew a small rune into the wood of his front door, mumbling the corresponding incantation to himself. He felt a slight drain of his energy, and after a moment’s pause he saw the shimmering of a veil raising, and turned around, satisfied with his work.

          What greeted him was the (somewhat grudgingly) impressed face of Kuroo, the genuinely thrilled expression of Bokuto, and the decidedly indifferent visage of Kenma. Bokuto bounded over to him as he began to walk, squawking excitedly. “’Kaashi!! Wow! That was so cool!” Bokuto exclaimed, his hands fluttering excitedly beside him as he talked. “Like, your entire house jus’, disappeared! That’s so neat!”

          Akaashi looked flatly back in reply, continuing to walk. “Thanks,” He muttered, leading the group further into the woods. “It was just cloaking runes, nothing complex.”

          With this dismissal, Bokuto seemed a bit disheartened, falling back to walk in step with Kuroo. Kenma, split between the newcomers and Keiji, lengthened his strides to match Akaashi’s, his footsteps echoing loudly in the semi-silence of the forest. Bokuto’s steps were just as loud, seeming to land upon every stick and dry leaf there was. If Akaashi concentrated hard enough, he would barely be able to make out the steps of Kuroo, whisper soft in the foliage.

          For hours they proceeded like this, walking round and round in the forest. Akaashi watched idly as they passed the same boulder for the fourth time, hearing a frustrated huff from beside him. Well, he had expected something like this to occur. The forest he resided in was old, and magic, and that combination made for a very opinionated and temperamental personality. He was lucky that it liked him and Kenma well enough, but with the edition of Kuroo and Bokuto, well, that made things a bit trickier. Frankly, he was a bit surprised that they had even made it to his home in the first place.

          They walked on for a few minutes more, until an angered shout was heard from behind. “ _I can’t do this anymore!_ ”

          Akaashi whipped around, hand instinctively reaching for the unfinished wand at his hip. He paused when he looked at Kuroo, who was panting from his little outburst. He looked up, eyes blazing, into Akaashi’s face, staring him down with the ferocity of a bull. His eyes glowed slightly, reminding Keiji of why Shadow-walkers were generally feared.

          “ _We’ve been walking in circles for hours! How long were you planning on leading us on, huh? Until we were weak enough to kill?!_ ” He looked a bit manic, hands opening and closing aimlessly, shifting his posture to the defensive. Keiji noticed his form de-manifesting a bit at the edges, and filed the information away for later.

          “No, Kuroo, the aim was not to kill you.” Akaashi sounded a bit bored, if only to cover his anger at the slight. “This forest is more than a bit old, and has a mind of its own. Until it’s satisfied itself with…” He paused, sighing, taking a moment to think, “whatever it seems to be doing, we will likely continue to make no progress.”

          The group quieted, a solemn silence falling over the four. Bokuto seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then stilled.

          Keiji, a bit miffed at the blow to his honor, turned away, continuing the march into the forest. The rest of the group followed, albeit a bit farther behind than before.

          Several hours passed in this manner, the tense silence gradually fading into a more serene quiet. Kenma eventually rejoined Keiji, and for the last hour or so, Kuroo and Bokuto had been speaking in a low undertone, Bokuto seemingly whining about something. Whenever Keiji looked back, Bokuto didn’t look tired, he looked more uncomfortable, itching at his forearms in the absent minded air of a person with numerous bug bites.

          After several minutes of nothing but the sound of scratching, Keiji finally came to a halt, turning around to face the others with a huff. Kenma continued for a few steps, then stopped when he noticed the lag in the group. Keiji looked squarely at Bokuto, who had the sense to look sheepish. Keiji flattened his features, prepared to wait for an explanation. He didn’t have to wait long.

          “Well, ya see…” Bokuto trailed off, the nervous shuffling of his feet muddled in the twilight. “This is completely normal!” He attempted, visibly sweating, looking around for assistance. “Yeah, completely normal….”

          Akaashi huffed out a laugh, leading the group off the path. “It’s quite alright, I believe that the rest of us needed a rest anyhow.” He eyed Kenma as he said this, who rolled his eyes in reply. If Akaashi was on his own it was likely he wouldn’t need to stop, but Kenma was human, and Bokuto, while slightly stronger than the average human, was still restricted to the limits of his form. Kuroo was the only true unknown element here, and it put Keiji on edge. However, it seemed that the Shadow-walker was willing to play nice for now, Keiji took comfort in that fact.

          Making sure to keep the path in sight, namely for the comfort of the others, he set his pack down next to a fallen log, going about setting up camp for the night. After a moment of stillness, his companions followed his lead, rummaging through their own packs as well.

* * *

 

          It wasn’t until later that evening that Keiji realized that they might have a bigger problem on their hands than first anticipated.

          It began with small motions, Bokuto continued to scratch his forearms, the back of his neck, at times even his chest. He had resolved to ignore it until Bokuto hissed in pain, finally scratching open the skin on his arms. Upon closer inspection, Keiji realized that Bokuto’s nails were no longer entirely human.

          With a sigh, he stood up, grabbing a length of linen out of his bag. Walking around the fire to the shifter’s side, he heard the snores of Kuroo, and the barely-there breaths of Kenma. He snatched Bokuto’s hand away from his neck, and inspected his arm, wincing at what he saw. Silently, he began to wind the cloth around his wounds, mouthing the words to healing and binding spells as he went. Bokuto watched as he worked, mouth slightly agape. Keiji was sure that it had to hurt, but Bokuto said nothing, just watched as he healed his arms, securing the linen bandage as he finished.

          Once he was done Keiji looked up, searching the shifter’s neck for any injuries. He gasped. Climbing up Bokuto’s hairline were sparse clumps of feathers, joining locks of his hair to create an altogether otherworldly look. Keiji, without thinking, brought his hand up to touch one, unaware of his action until Bokuto let out a small _eep_ in questioning. Quicker than lightening, Keiji snatched his hand back, moving a good length from Bokuto. There was a beat of silence, where both men did their best to look away, pretending that the moment had never transpired.

           Clearing his throat, Keiji stood up, brushing nonexistent dust from his trousers. “Well,” He began, looking Bokuto in the eye. This was altogether strange, as Bokuto’s eyes could no longer be called entirely human. While it never could be said that Bokuto looked absolutely human from the start, his slit pupils and the yellow of his eyes were a dead giveaway as to his heritage. If that wasn’t enough, the too-steep tilt of his head was unnerving enough to tip someone off.

           “Please do your best to not reopen those.” Keiji paused, clearing his throat. He looked Bokuto over again, feeling something akin to fear crawl up his spine. “I’ll do my best to get you to your Tree before this becomes any worse.”

           Somehow, even in the dying light of the fire, Bokuto’s eyes managed to shine the slightest bit brighter.

* * *

 

           It was a crisp, clear dawn that greeted them as they packed up camp. Keiji suppressed a shiver at the chill, and pulled his cloak a bit closer. He secured his bedroll to his bag, studiously avoiding the gaze of anyone who tried, mostly the clumsy shifter across the camp.

           Keiji, once he had gotten past the inevitable grogginess that comes with waking up on the forest floor, had made tentative plans to hunt that morning, to save supplies and whatnot. As they packed up and continued to walk, it was made apparent that it was a bit of a pipedream.                                 

           Between Kenma, who was obviously trying his best, but insofar managing to step on every stick in the forest, and Bokuto, who evidently was more used to flying than walking, they were the most obvious group of travelers there ever was. Keiji felt fortunate that the forest was rumored to be haunted, and even more so when it became apparent that they were finally moving away from the center of the forest.

           Akaashi was the first to notice, with Kenma not far behind. Keiji assumed that Kuroo realized next, as the near invisible tension lessened in his shoulders, just slightly. Bokuto seemed unaffected, just happy to take the path as Keiji lead them. Keiji wasn’t sure how to feel about that, the weight of his trust seemingly weighing on his shoulders.

           After roughly an hour of travelling in this manner, the group stopped for a break, each pulling something out to eat as they rested for a moment. After several minutes spent in silence, Kuroo perked up, setting his bag down and racing off towards where Akaashi had planned on leading the group next. Keiji saw the retreating back of a young doe, several meters from where he stood.

           Keiji raised his hand, a feeble attempt to stop the other from running. “Wait, there’s a-“

          A large splash was heard, as well as a shriek that Kuroo would later deny. Keiji sighed, hearing Bokuto’s poorly masked snickers and Kenma’s huff of exasperation.

          Yes, this was going to be a long trip.

* * *

 

           Kuroo, upon being fished out of the river, proceeded to grumble for nearly a mile, until roughly when his clothes had dried enough to be slightly comfortable. Keiji wasn’t entirely sure Bokuto had stopped laughing since he had fell into the water.

           “Really Kou? It’s not that funny!” Kuroo finally snapped, cuffing Bokuto on the back of his head. This served to make Bokuto laugh harder, eyeing Kuroo’s hair like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen, as if he hadn’t been sporting feathers on the nape on his neck for the past hour.

           Kuroo’s hair was truly a tragic sight to see, Keiji would concede that. While normally it looked as if birds nested in it, a quick dunk in the river seemed to serve to make it worse. As Kuroo’s hair dried, the thick locks curled and tousled, becoming a shaggy mess that was constantly in his eyes. Keiji didn’t envy him, that was certain.

           Bokuto continued to laugh, small snickers becoming full chuckles, shaking his shoulders and scaring anything within at least a twenty meter radius. Kuroo stomped on, muttering under his breath about _ungrateful owls_ and _see if he ever tries to help again_. Kenma peered up at him from behind his book, his lips curling slightly at the edges despite himself.

           How Kenma was navigating the forest floor whilst reading a book was beyond Keiji. If it was anyone else he would say that was the reason for his clumsy walking, but from experience Keiji could firmly say it was just how Kenma moved. If anything the distraction made his movement more fluid, more comfortable. The book probably seemed a bit strange to anybody looking on, which was evident by the not-so-inconspicuous glances the two interlopers cast from time to time.

          Keiji was well aware of Kenma’s need for diversion. The way it had been described to him was that without it, Kenma often felt exposed. The book gave him a distraction, something else to focus on other than what was going on around him, which he seemingly paid too much attention to otherwise. Keiji couldn’t say he understood, but he trusted Kenma to know what was best for himself, and did his best to respect his wishes.

          The clearing of a throat snapped him out of his musings, turning his head to see Bokuto eagerly bouncing along beside him, Kuroo following a few paces behind.

          “Yes?” He inquired, bringing his hands together to fiddle with his fingers, more out of habit than nerves.

          “So when we get there,” Bokuto began, falling into step next to Keiji. “Are there any fancy fairy rules we’re gonna need to follow? Like bowing twelve times to say hi, or…” He paused, bringing his hand to his chin in thought “Maybe knocking like, five times on a doorway when you go in, or something.”

          Keiji paused for a moment, feeling a small prick of offense at being called a fairy. He carried on, when he realized that Bokuto indeed had a fair point. He supposed it was time to talk about the Fae.

          “Yes,” he began, “There are some, ah, customs that you’ll need to observe while we’re in the presence of the Council-”

          “Yeah, about that,” Kuroo cut in, raising an eyebrow in question. “What do we need from this council again? I thought you were just taking us to a grotto?”

          Akaashi sighed in lieu of a reply, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “We’ll need to attain their permission to enter the Familial Grotto, it’s not exactly open to the public.” He snapped, narrowing his eyes in Kuroo’s direction. He gestured subtly at Bokuto, as if to say _for good reason_.

          Bokuto, for his part, looked completely calm at the idea of meeting the Council. He continued to walk, his arms swinging merrily at his sides. “I don’t see what the issue is!” He chirped, unaware of the completely deadened look Keiji had leveled at him. He looked up and jumped away with an _eep_ of surprise, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “Really!” he whined, walking a bit quicker, “All we gotta do is walk in, ask to go see some trees, and we go fix my family! It’s not that hard!”

          Keiji looked as if he was close to ramming his head into the nearest tree. With a sigh he shook his head, snickers from Kuroo and huffs of laughter from Kenma coloring the morning air.

          It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhat betaed, somewhat not. Blame me, I avoided writing this all week lmao
> 
> EDIT: betaed, simon is the best and im still a piece of garbage for giving this to him so last minute. Everyone, enjoy!


	3. Lessons Learned, Lessons Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji was jerked out of his musings with a quick, subtle pop, the metallic stench of magic in the air. He whipped around, preparing for a fight, with who he wasn’t sure. What he saw really shouldn’t have been a surprise.

          “First thing you need to remember, if you call any of my people the Fae, you’re liable to get smacked.” Keiji begins, tossing the comment over his shoulder as he continues walking.

Bokuto whines in confusion, gripping his hair and pulling. He drops his hands with a huff, staring frustrated holes into Keiji’s back. “Why?!” He exclaims, kicking at a rock. “I thought that’s what you are!”

Keiji sighs, drumming his fingers against the strap of his pack. “In the human languages, yes, that is what we are called. However, our proper name is the Sylvii, and many see it as rude to be called otherwise.”

He hears Kuroo mutter a small _ah_ in understanding, and Kenma huff in laughter. Bokuto hums, mulling it over in his head. After a few moments of silence, Keiji takes it as a sign to continue.

“There are certain greetings that are observed, but as outsiders you won’t be expected to know all of them,” He began, letting his mind fall back a bit into his childhood, hours of niceties and rituals flashing behind his eyes. He frowns, then continues, “I will teach you one, which should cover everything you’ll need for this.”

Keiji turned around to face the group, mildly surprised to see all three of them walking in step with one another. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, then carried on. “You’ll first need to say ‘ _Ut affera tibi hodi fortuna_ ,’ while also bowing.” Keiji repeated the phrase, drawing one foot behind him and bowing gracefully at the waist, a perfect 90 degrees, touching the tips of his fingers to the base of his throat. He held himself there for a moment, then straightened.

When he looked to the group for any comment, he saw that they mostly looked confused. Kuroo cleared his throat, looking off to the side of Keiji’s face.

          “So,” He began, clearing his throat, “Who do we bow to, exactly?” He gave a nervous chuckle as Keiji turned back around, leading the group through a stand of formidable pine trees. Keiji fiddled with his fingers for a bit, thinking of a tactful answer.

          “Most everyone, probably. The best advice I can give you is that if they don’t first bow to you, take it as a sign that you should bow first. They will always follow, but if they outrank you it is not proper for them to bow first.” He thought some more, tapping his fingers in a nervous beat on his arm. “If-“

          “So when do you bow?” Bokuto interrupted, quickly scrambling to continue when he realized his interruption. “I mean, where do you rank in the whole Fae politics thing?”

          Keiji, doing his best to keep from sounding stiff, rolls his shoulders, thinking of how best to give an answer. “Well, it’s somewhat complicated. My family ranks fairly high, and as a Wandmaker, I certainly garner some respect. However, I am not a council member, nor have I held any official public position, meaning that my rank in comparison to others is a bit of a grey area.”

          Bokuto frowned, turning the new information around in his head. He pauses for a moment, then squints down at Keiji, a confused frown on his face. “Do we need to be bowing to you?” He asked, looking put out by the mere suggestion of it. Keiji suppressed a laugh, slightly irritated with himself for finding his expression cute.

          “No,” He began, a wry smile on his face, “Aside from the fact that you’re my guests, I left the Sylvii for a reason, and the overwrought formalities was a large reason for that. Please, don’t fear that you’ve overlooked some formality or other, I can reassure you that this will be a tedious trip for all of us if you do.”

          Even Kenma looked surprised, much to Keiji’s chagrin. 

          Keiji sighed; he had much more explaining to do than he originally feared.

* * *

 

          After a few more hours filled with the finer points of Sylviian niceties, Keiji noticed Kenma drawing back a bit. He supposed that to the others it wouldn’t be noticeable, but after so many years together it was hard to miss. The vague interest in his eyes died, and his steps faltered a bit, putting him in the back of the pack. Keiji did his best to keep his eye on Kenma amidst his impromptu lesson. After a while of this, he noticed Kuroo drawing back, walking in step with Kenma’s uneasy gait.

          He turned to face Bokuto, satisfied that Kenma could handle himself. He heard an indistinct murmur from Kuroo, and after a moment there was a grudging reply from Kenma, grumbled out in a borderline angry undertone. Keiji smiled, facing Bokuto to explain a particularly tricky bit of Sylviian lore, keeping an ear out for Kenma.

          While he completely trusted Kenma to hold his own, and insofar Kuroo had proven his trustworthiness, he was well aware that talking to Kenma when he was like this was a huge mistake. He supposed at this point that his concern may as well be for Kuroo, considering the rabid animal Kenma could be if pushed enough.

          After a while even Keiji fell into silence, finishing his lesson on a remark about the Council, something about the families that often took positions and the various newcomers in the past centuries. After a few beats he stared off into the woods, appreciating the lush wildness of it all.

          The green of the leaves blended into the brown of the trunks, the silver-blue of the spruce needles, the snatches of the sky, so clear and high above them. Keiji felt at peace here; he felt safe. The branches above sheltered him, slowly encompassing him as they neared to Nidui.

          Nidui, the Sylviian capital, would be gorgeous around this time. He supposed it was always better in person, but the high arches of the trees, the gentle sway of the grasses in the lane, he would never forget the place of which he was raised. He supposed, as much as he resented it at times, that Nidui would always be a part of him, branded behind his eyes, buried within his skin. If his life was as the trees then the Sylviian capitol would be his base, the innermost rings upon which his trunk formed.

          Keiji was jerked out of his musings with a quick, subtle pop, the metallic stench of magic in the air. He whipped around, preparing for a fight, with who he wasn’t sure. What he saw really shouldn’t have been a surprise.

          Kuroo was sprawled on the ground, his eyes darting in bewilderment, dazed and confused. Kenma stood over him, chest heaving in a way that belied his instability. Keiji, after a startled moment’s pause, stepped forward, gently laying a hand on Kenma’s shoulder. He was shrugged off, causing a small pinprick of offense to spring forth. He tamped it down, knowing it had no place there.

          Keiji said nothing, only pinned Kenma with a firm look. Kenma, after a moment, seemed to fidget at the attention, a hand playing with the hem of his shirt. He looked as if he would rather not be there in that instant, Keiji couldn’t blame him.

          Kuroo looked fine as Keiji helped him up. A bit sore, his only major injury would be to his pride, if he was the kind to take offense to such an act. However, it seemed Keiji was in luck, as Kuroo merely nodded in Kenma’s direction, then moved towards Bokuto, striking up a light conversation as if nothing had happened.

          Shocked, Bokuto stumbled after Kuroo, dazedly conversing as he walked. Keiji took that as a sign to continue, so he did, casting one more exasperated look at Kenma before turning back to the trail, hearing Kenma sullenly fall into step next to him.

          Yes, Keiji decides, nervously eyeing a volatile Kenma out of the corner of his eye, it was going to be a long trip indeed.

* * *

 

          “We’ll be hitting the boundary in a moment.” Keiji states, hearing a hum of questioning from Kuroo. They had been walking in semi-silence for a while; Kenma’s irritation and the weariness of the group made conversation more than a bit lacking. This was the first Keiji had spoken in hours, giving the words a warbly, unstable sound.

          “Hitting what barrier?” Kuroo continued, turning about to face Keiji with a huff. Keiji simply gestured, mumbling for Kuroo to  _ step forward and see _ . Kuroo squinted down at him, distrust thinly veiled with joking irritation. With a click of his teeth, Kuroo walked a bit further into the woods, freezing immediately as he felt himself pass through something.

          Keiji had no clue what the Barrier felt like to a non-Sylvii, but he had been told it was a uniquely unpleasant experience. He was doubly sure of that once Bokuto stepped through the invisible line, a great shudder wracking his body as he shivered. Feathers sprouted up and down his arms and neck, making Bokuto shake his head furiously a few times in effort to regain control.

          Kuroo looked no worse, his corporeal form dematerializing a bit at the edges. He looked like a cat who had just taken a bath, dripping and sad.

          Keiji offered his hand to Kenma, gripping the slight digits firmly as they walked the line. Keiji felt the barely-there press of the magic, and Kenma outwardly appeared unaffected. He squeezed Keiji’s hand just the slightest bit tighter, before letting go entirely. Keiji looked down at the witch for a moment, searching his face. When he found nothing he looked away, stepping up to lead the group once more.

          “That was the boundary into the edge of Nidui, so we aren’t far.” Keiji stated, setting a brisk pace, “We should be there by dawn if we don’t stop.” He heard a groan behind him, then felt the thunk of Kenma’s head as he headbutted into Keiji’s shoulder.

          “Akaashi,” He mumbled, continuing to walk hunched over. Keiji did not stop, “I can’t walk that long; we’re gonna need to rest at some point.”

          Keiji froze, red creeping high into his cheeks. He felt like an ass, but it was difficult to remember where the edges of human limits lay. He heard Kuroo and Bokuto snickering into their palms, and he ran a frustrated hand over his face, feeling his embarrassment ebb as he felt Kenma hide a smile in his shirt. He turned around, noticing the lengthening shadows. He leveled an even look at the two loons, then continued.

          “Alright, we’ll break camp here then. We’ll resume tomorrow at dawn, and hopefully we’ll make it by noon.”

* * *

 

          “So when you said noon, did you really mean it?” Bokuto queried, panting every so often. Keiji felt his eye twitch, tiring of the questions after announcing that they were an hour away from the heart of the city. It was like traveling with children, or an especially noisy dog.

          “Yes Bokuto, we should be arriving any minute-“ Keiji paused, stopping the group in the middle of 4 trees, each as large around as four men abreast. “Now.” He completed, gesturing all around him. The rest of his party gazed around, blinking confusedly at the lush greenery around them. After a few minutes, things looked a little clearer.

          A small Sylviian woman was the first to appear, her shoulder-length hair shining in the afternoon sun like spun gold. She bounded seemingly out of the bark of the trees, but upon closer inspection it was clear that there was a door within the trunk. She greeted Keiji in the way that he had shown, and with a wry smile Keiji bowed in return, uttering the same words.

          “Akaashi- _ elda _ , it’s been a long time! Have you come for a visit?” She questioned excitedly, bouncing eagerly in front of Keiji. He smiled, shifting to the side to reveal his party.

          “Not today Hitoka- _ iuen _ , I’m here on business. Is there any chance that-“ He cut himself off, looking up to greet another Sylviian.

          She appeared from between two of the great trees, silent and graceful. Her hair was dark as pitch, and her twinkling blue eyes held the knowledge of centuries. She walked with purpose, her posture poised and practiced, while she bored into Keiji with a judgmental stare, masked with cloying politeness.

          “Keiji- _ sori _ , what a lovely surprise.” She said, her voice belying her interest. “The council is expecting you.” She flicked her gaze to the three behind him, all of whom had been standing stock still in silence since Keiji had spoken. “Just what on earth have you gotten yourself into,  _ sopa _ ?”

          Keiji found himself wondering that as well, sometimes.

* * *

 

          “Wait here.” The woman, who had sparingly introduced herself as Shimizu Kiyoko, said finally, after silently leading them through Nidui. They had entered through an imposing pair of double doors, and into a room that was three times larger than the tree that housed it. The room reeked of Sylviian magic, causing Kuroo to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Keiji smiled, bowing to Kiyoko.

          “You have my thanks.” He uttered, formally and dismissively. She bowed in return, then breezed out, the doors slamming ominously behind her.

          There was silence, everyone a bit too shocked at the suddenness of their arrival and subsequent summoning to truly have a reaction. Keiji cleared his throat, shuffling his feet slightly.

          “So what’s the game plan?” Kuroo asks suddenly, just as Keiji opens his mouth to break the silence. He closes it, thinks, then replies.

          “I… ah,” He pauses and clears his throat again, fiddling with his fingers. “Don’t really have one?” The statement comes out more like a question than he intended. He can feel the incredulous stares of all three of his companions, making him hunch further into himself.

          “No plan?” Kuroo demands, sounding increasingly outraged. “You dragged us through the forest, brought us to fairy land, and all the way into the city hall or whatever, just to tell us you don’t have a plan?!” Kuroo was more than fuming at this point, the shadows at his feet quivering angrily. His eyes were a bit brighter than could safely be called normal, and the tang of his own magic in the air was oppressive. Keiji took a step back, holding his hands up soothingly.

          “I’m still here to help.” He utters, keeping his voice as mellow as he can. “The Council is very fastidious, their whims change in an instant, and if I’m being clear, I have no clue what they might say about this particular problem.” Keiji realized a bit too late that he might be over-explaining, that he more than likely was talking himself into a hole. He saw Kuroo begin to calm a bit, and continued, figuring he really had nothing to lose at this point.

          “I’ll do my best to get you and Bokuto where you need to go. That hasn’t changed.” He finishes, grinding his thumb into the heel of his palm.

          Kuroo opened his mouth to reply, but any utterance was lost to a resounding creak.

          The doors were open.

* * *

 

          “Keiji-iaju, this is a pleasant surprise.” Keiji looks up from where he was kneeling, motioning with his hand for the others to keep their heads bowed. He sees the motionless forms of the council, each hidden with a ceremonial veil, masking any distinguishing figures, save their voices.

          “It is.” He states simply, rising when one of the seven orders him to. “I am here on behalf of the party behind me. One of which is a shifter, under the Bokuto family. I have reason to believe that there is trouble with his Family Tree, and I am requesting that he be permitted into the Grotto.” He quieted, giving the council time to deliberate in their silent, eerie way.

          Several minutes passed, with only the beat of his own heart and the occasional shuffle behind him to denote their passing. He heard a throat clearing, and directed his attention to the unshifting forms of the council.

          “We would desire more time to deliberate on this.” They began, seven voices chiming in harmony. “Allow us these next few days to think.” They paused, the air in the room shifting slightly. “In the meantime, the Festival of Souls is ending tomorrow, it has been many moons since you’ve joined in such an honor.” Amusement colored these words. Keiji felt his eye twitch.

          “Of course.” He began, struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice. “We will return shortly.”

          With a sharp nod, Keiji turned around, breezing out of the room with a frustrated huff, barely registering the three following behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best excuse i can give is that i had school, then vacation, then more school. Extra classes suck, don't do it kids.
> 
> This is shorter than i would have liked, and I wrote it almost a month ago. The good news is that i have a significant portion of this story outlined, and i'm working on more.
> 
> About updates, i was sticking to mondays, but that might change depending on how the school week pans out. Ill play around with my scheduling and find what fits, dont worry. Thanks for sticking with me, and hopefully I'll stick to an update schedule this time!

**Author's Note:**

> you know, i said i would wait to post this until i had a few chapters backed up, but i got halfway through the next chapter and decided that this would do. thanks for reading!
> 
> (yell at me on tumblr @nativemossy)


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